


We Three Queens

by smoakmonster



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff, Future Fic, Multi, Olicity Secret Santa, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoakmonster/pseuds/smoakmonster
Summary: A look into three Christmas adventures of Oliver, Felicity, and William. Spoilers for 6x09.





	We Three Queens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smkkbert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smkkbert/gifts).



> Hi Kathi (smkkbert), I am your Secret Santa! I hope this season has been filled with much love for you and your loved ones. I adore so much of your fanfiction, and for your gift I’ve written you a Queen family holiday fluff fic. I hope that this story brings you some joy! Merry Christmas xo - Shelley (smoakmonster)

**-2017-**

“What about this one?”

Oliver adjusts his grip around the eight-foot frasier fir, spinning the tree for inspection, sap sticking to his fingertips and branches prickling his skin.

Yet even as he struggles in the bitter cold--not quite as cold as Lian Yu, but his hands seem to be forgetting that--and feigns more casual control over the tree than he actually feels, the matching frowns both his wife and son are wearing fill his chest with an inexplicable, bubbling warmth and help keep him steady.

“I don't know.” Felicity tips her head, biting her lower lip as she studies the tree with about as much intensity as she often studies her computers in the bunker, as though the decision were a matter of life and death and not merely a few inches in height preference.

At the rate his family is taking to make a decision, propping up this tree for another five minutes just might be the death of him.

Masked gunmen and Mirakuru soldiers and doppelgangers...and the Green Arrow is going to be undone by a Christmas tree. It's fitting in a way, he supposes.

“What do you think, William?” she asks.

William shakes his head. “Yeah, this one's no good. I think we need to go taller.”

“Taller?” Oliver counters.

“I agree,” chimes Felicity, ignoring Oliver’s huff of impatience. “And more poofy at the bottom. More Christmas-y.”

Oliver shoots her a half-irritated-half-amused look as he begrudgingly relinquishes the tree still clinging to his skin and moves into the nine-foot section.

But before he can so much as reach for yet another potential candidate, his wife lets out an excited shriek and darts ahead of him, running with unabashed glee to the large, easily ten-foot display tree standing at the center of the lot.

“William? What is your expert assessment? Should we do the lean test?”

William nods enthusiastically.

Oliver just shakes his head with a slow, contented grin, watching Felicity and William sway from side to side in synchronized fashion and walk the circumference of the base of the tree and run their hands through the long, bristling branches.

“Dad, I think this is the one.”

“I agree,” Felicity nods gleefully under her gray beanie, her face beaming with a smile he's never had the strength to refuse and her cheeks blooming with a radiant pink from the cold that somehow makes her even more appealing than usual. She's even more giddy about this endeavor than William.

“And it's a noble fir, so it's less likely to shed--not that we're allergic, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“Felicity,” Oliver practically whines her name.

“Oliver,” she whines right back, matching his deep tone. “Come on, this tree is perfect.”

“This tree is excessive.”

“Says the guy who once told me his friends were participating in a--” she lifts her hands to perform a playful air quote, her ring catching a brief flick of sunlight-- “‘scavenger hunt’ using black-ops level security.”

Oliver shuts his eyes, moaning a sigh, feeling the weight of determination drain from his body.

He knows he's lost. But strangely, it doesn't feel like a defeat. Surrendering to her is nothing like his battles on the streets or the cosmic battle that used to rage within himself. No, this surrender is peaceful, easy, right. _This_ is why he’s kept fighting his enemies and chasing his fears for so long, for the sake of silly, simple, wonderful little arguments about tree decor. To have gingerbread house competitions that involve more face stuffing and flour throwing than actual crafting. To watch and learn and listen, in awe, as the woman he loves lights eight candles with quiet reverence and dignity and teaches his son to do the same. To delight in storing Queen family heirlooms inside of old MIT moving boxes. To race out of bed in the middle of the night to answer the cries of his son, only to crawl back into bed and curl his body around his wife and press his feet in between fuzzy socks and whisper words of comfort against her neck to help keep her nightmares at bay, too.

As a husband and a father, it's his job to protect his new family. And yet, they've done more to save him than he can ever do to save them in return. He's used to protecting a city of strangers through violence. While he has the physical training, at times he feels unequipped to lead his family to an emotional safe haven. How does he protect the _hearts_ of the people closest to him?

By savoring the simple pleasures and slower rhythms. By enjoying the little, life-building things. By keeping his promises and coming home to these two remarkable people who grow a little more remarkable every day, the people who’ve taught him how to laugh and love and live again.

Like today.

“Well, if money is a problem, Mr. Mayor,” Felicity continues, pulling him from his thoughts, “then I would be more than happy to contribute to the Christmas fund.” She tips her head at him, giving him the _I’ve-never-had-a-real-Christmas-before-and-we-are-doing-this-for-William_ look. But she’s also teasing him, enticing him.

Exactly like the day they met.

He shakes his head as the warm memory floods his senses like that afternoon cider. He can still see her so clearly, so vibrant, so young and innocent. He can still see that cherry red pen being plucked from neon pink lips. He can still feel himself shaken by the encounter, down to his innermost being. So much so that that was the first day his hand stopped twitching.

But like all old habits, they find a way to wander back. And he feels his hand twitch again now, one last time. Only instead of an incessant nervous tic, his thumb runs in a lazy circle back and forth, just enough to rub against the metal wrapped snugly around his ring finger, the cool texture soothing him deep into his soul.

“Okay,” Oliver concedes. “I think this is the one.”

He lingers on her for an intentionally long time, unguarding his thoughts and pushing his heart out and open onto his sleeve, just for her. When she finally _sees_ that he's referring to more than just the tree, she smiles and blushes slightly, of course. She still blushes often under his steady gaze, because like him she's still learning how to be loved. If only he could show her how desirable she remains to him, how being with her feels a bit like waking up Christmas morning every morning, filling him with hope and wonder, as startling as it is settling.

**-2018-**

Waking up next to her husband on Christmas morning hits Felicity with unexpected giddiness. For one, she is miraculously up before him. For two, this day marks only the second time she's _really_ ever experienced Christmas properly. (Vegas showcases and her time in the hospital do not count.) For three, she really cannot wait to give him his Christmas gift.

Hopping out of bed, Felicity makes her way to the kitchen to begin working on breakfast. It’s taken a year of being the wife to a masterchef, but Felicity has _finally_ learned how to make a decent omelette. And by decent, it is literally the barest of minimums. Because nothing can compete with Oliver Queen’s superior cooking skills.

To be honest, not much can compete with Oliver Queen’s skills in general.  

“Hey.”

Including the ability to sneak up on her like a big cat.

“Hi,” Felicity breathes, as his hands wrap around her middle, pressing her back against his warm chest. She sinks with ease into his embrace.

“You didn't have to do this.” He nuzzles her neck, sending small, happy thrills peppering down her spine.

“I wanted to.”

Oliver gives her head a quick kiss, while his left hand slowly meanders underneath her ( _his_ ) shirt. The cool brush of his ring over her belly button shoots an eager chill straight to her core, and on its own her own left hand comes up to join his on top, their rings clinking against one another like a small toast.

They spend a long time like that, wrapped around each other, swaying softly in the kitchen. Moment by moment, Felicity realizes she likes the feel of his hands over her belly _a lot_ , especially now since...

“Is this my surprise gift?” he whispers at her ear.

She starts, and for a moment panic floods her veins that he has _somehow_ read her mind or that she’s reverted to old habits of just blurting out her thoughts.

But when he doesn’t elaborate, she sighs in relief, realizing he’s just referring to the omelette. And she knows what he’s doing. The man may have given up torture, but he still knows how to get the information he wants.

“Hm, nice try, mister, but--” She spins around, and her words get caught in her throat at the site that greets her: Oliver wearing a pair of long, Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer pajama pants, that on anyone else would look absolutely ridiculous but on him are surprisingly adorable.

He was most definitely _not_ wearing those last night.

Or any night.

Where has he been hiding them?

“Felicity.”

She glances upward, nibbling on her lower lip.

“My eyes are up here.”

“Right.”

He’s wearing that annoying charming smirk of his, and normally she would rise to the obligatory marital banter occasion, but right now she is far too preoccupied.

Immediately, his demeanor sobers, matching hers, and he closes what little distance there was between them, running his hands in slow, soothing strokes up and down her arms.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she answers immediately, to try to assuage the fear he wears so openly now, now that he has more to lose, now that they are a real family. “Well, not _nothing_ . _Something_ is going on. Besides just...this.” She waves to the Christmas tree and pile of presents containing a blend of blue and white and red and green wrappings.

He waits for her to continue, staring at her with that intense markman’s gaze, those deep sea blue eyes pouring into her with so much vigor, the waves of his love crashing into her, slowly eroding away all her haunting self-doubts. She’s never been able to resist this power he has over her heart, a power that he never abandons or abuses.

“I um...I wanted to wait to do this until William was up but--”

“Are we opening presents yet?!” William bursts into the kitchen, full of energy, effectively severing the moment.

“Later,” Felicity mouths.

Oliver nods and lays a soft kiss on her forehead and then leads her into the living room to begin their first annual Christmas morning ritual.

Felicity loses herself for a while in the joy of watching Oliver her husband and mini Oliver her sweet stepson laugh and comment on each other’s wrapping “skills” and stick bows in each other's hair. William revels in her presents to him, a new video game and Star Wars: The Last Jedi ultra HD blu ray special edition, which he gets her to promise to rewatch with him that night. And she wholeheartedly agrees.

For so long, she's never known what's it like to have a normal family. Being an only child raised by a single mom who didn't fully understand her was a lonely time. She never wants William to feel left out of his own family. Not that she regrets her childhood. She loves her mom. She loves having her dad back in her life.

But she also loves her new family-- _their_ family. They've always been a kind of family, a mix of broken hearts coming together form a beautiful mosaic; but making it official has given Felicity a renewed sense of peace, filling in the last of the cracks of her insecurities, like cement in between bricks, keeping her grounded, giving her a foundation, a sense of belonging, a home.

She's loved the slow and steady and chaotic mixing of their lives this past year, the merging of traditions of three legacies and the subtle making of new ones, like Felicity teaching William about the festival of lights and him helping her light the menorah, like Felicity and William volunteering to be the guinea pigs for Oliver’s mayoral holiday party dessert contest, like listening to Oliver and Thea reminisce about extravagant Queen Christmases past.

Of all of them, William has certainly had the most traditional of Christmases growing up. And Oliver and Felicity have tried to treasure and sustain that sense of familiarity in his life, to teach him that it's okay to celebrate, even after you've lost someone you love, to give him everything their own parents never could.

The evidence of William’s sense of security and gentle spirit comes in his own gift giving, in an ugly snowman sweater for his dad that Felicity and William spent an hour searching for at the mall, and in the small sterling silver Star of David necklace he gives her, along with a smile.

Seeing the little star, a piece of her heritage, twinkle against her skin takes her breath away.

“Do you like it?” William asks in a quiet voice, so unsure.

She can only bring herself to give him a wobbly smile in return, barely holding back the happy tears. She knows hormones are partly to blame, but still. It means a lot.

And suddenly, she can’t hold back her secret any longer.

“Wait,” she cries, stopping Oliver and William in the midst of picking up discarded ribbons. Two pairs of big, searching eyes meet hers, both drawing her in, both filled with such surprising innocence and deep need to protect the innocent.

“How about some coffee?”

“What?” Oliver asks at the same time William says, “I can have coffee?”

“Umm…” Oliver frowns, and she misses whatever else he says to William in Dad Voice, because she's darting away to the kitchen to find the hidden mugs she stashed away yesterday.

_No going back now._

And she doesn't want to. Keeping this from Oliver for almost a week has been torture. She wanted to tell him right away, but things with the team have been stealing her and her husband's time and attention, and he's been so worn from dealing with crime on the mayoral front. They've barely seen each other all week, and it's a Christmas miracle he's managed to get the day off--

“You’re not having any?” William asks, when she sets down the half-filled coffee mugs.

Felicity sighs a short laugh at just how perceptive her stepson can be. Are all kids his age like this, or is he just super smart and special? Maybe she's biased, but she likes to believe the latter is true. Maybe she needs to start researching kids in general, all things considered.

“Um...no. Let’s just say I’m giving up coffee in the new year--pretty much all caffeine in general. But I was thinking the two of you could have some for me...for the both of us.”

With a shaking hand and a pounding heart, Felicity runs her fingertips over her stomach just as the two Queen boys examine the mugs in front of them.

When Oliver looks up from his WORLD'S BEST DAD mug, he's not wearing the jaw-dropping look of shock she was expecting find. In fact, he barely looks surprised at all, more...contented, almost as though...

“You knew? How did you…” she breathes as he stands up and approaches her, her words cut off when he bends down to quickly kiss her stomach.

“I found the pregnancy test in the bathroom.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

He shrugs. “I figured you'd tell me when you were ready.”

He runs his hand through her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear.

“Are we ready for this?” she whispers.

He smiles with his eyes first, her favorite smile, the corners of his eyes boasting deep wrinkles that mark a life filled with so much endurance and recently so much laughter. And just like that, she remembers what she's always known: Oliver will be the best daddy ever.

“It's not like we've never been parents before,” he replies easily.

“But this is different. Oliver, a baby--”

“I'm going to be a brother?!”

William abandons his one chance at coffee (his own mug stamped with the words _Brother, Est. 2018_ in baseball jersey cursive white font) to join them.

“Yeah, buddy,” responds Oliver, far too casually, like this sort of thing happens every day, pulling his son into a side hug.

“Is that okay?” Felicity asks in a quiet voice, her own insecurities sounding very much like this young man’s own fears from just a few minutes ago. They share a kindred-spiritedness, her and William, both knowing what it's like to lose a parent at a young age, both too smart for their own good sometimes, both needing Oliver Queen on a very deep and terrifying level. Their respective loses have bonded them in some ways, while keeping them apart in others.

It's also one thing to accept being a parent, to accept that this child will call her mom and there may never come a day when William will be able to do the same. She knows he's happy to have her in her life, and she's happy just to have the chance to be a part of it. But it's another thing entirely to ask William to be happy to have a sibling right away. One day, he might. She can wait for someday.

She doesn't have to wait very long, though. Because the next thing Felicity knows, she’s being swallowed into a group hug as two different arms wrap snugly around her. The Queen boys give the best hugs.

“It’s more than okay,” mumbles William against her side.

The words are simple but profound. Life-changing in the best way.

Suddenly William jumps back. “I'm not hurting it, am I?”

Felicity chuckles. “No. No, the baby's like the size of your finger right now. It'll be awhile till I start to...show.”

Felicity glances up at Oliver, his face mirroring the tingling joy spreading through her. She may be the one pregnant, but she's pretty sure he’s the one glowing.

**-2019-**

Another loud wail has his dad calling his name.

“Hey, William, can you come take her for a minute? I need to check the oven.”

Despite _her_ loud cries in protest, William happily accepts the squirming baby into his gangly arms, moving her soft little head upright into the crook of his elbow with practiced ease, like holding a football. A very loud, always wiggling football.

“Shh, it's okay, Ladybug. It's just me,” William tries to soothe his baby sister, rocking her gently as he takes her around to look at all the pretty, bright Christmas lights sprinkled on the tree.

His little Ladybug just makes an unamused face, turning as red as her namesake, and lets out another unpleasant scream.

“She's not hungry, is she?” William calls over his shoulder.

“Felicity just fed her,” Dad hollers from the kitchen.

William groans, wishing he could help but never knowing exactly what to do to calm his wild sister down. Sometimes she just wants mommy, and of course tonight mommy has to work late via a conference call in the bedroom.

“It's okay,” coos William, over and over, whether to ease her cries or to repress his own anxiety, he doesn't really know.

For a while, _nothing_ works. None of his dad's tricks work, no amount of soothing strokes or back pats or half-lullabies or Baby's First Christmas ornament distractions. And he's pretty sure he's about to be partially responsible for this baby crying herself to death, when an idea finally strikes him.

“You don't mind if I show you your Christmas present early, do you?” he asks gently.

And like magic, her crying slowly subsides, sending the whole loft into an overwhelming, peaceful silence, like the sudden end of a rainstorm. He can tell she's likely about to start up again and soon, as she throws him a skeptical look, waiting for her promised entertainment.

He smiles brightly, digging with one hand into the box tucked under the far corner of the tree, and then pulling out two rattling objects.

He shakes the first one, a small dreidel covered with soft, fuzzy blue fabric, which captures her fancy immediately. She reaches for it with a gleeful squeal.

“That's for your mom. Your mom's Jewish, and every year we celebrate Hanukkah. She taught me how to light the menorah, and I can teach you one day, if you want. I know a couple of words in Hebrew, too, but I'm not really good at saying them.”

His baby sis smiles at that, giving him her best toothless grin, shoving one soft corner into her mouth to gnaw on it.

William lets her play with that for awhile, pulling out the second rattle covered in more baby-friendly fabric, this one a deep forest green.

“Dad helped me make this one.”

Her eyes latch onto the little arrowhead rattle, one that looks exactly like the arrows recovered at numerous crime scenes. And he knows that look of wonder and intrigue. It's the same look he no doubt wore the first time Dad brought him down into the bunker, the first time he officially met the team and watched Dad put on the Green Arrow suit.

“I know it's hard being the kid of a superhero,” William whispers, softly slipping his index finger into her small open hand, her tiny little fingers curling around his to make a fist. She's already so strong. Just like her parents. Just like them, their family.

“But I promise, I won't ever let you end up alone,” William vows, echoing the same promise Dad made to him years ago, back when he tried giving up saving the city to be there for him. But William doesn't need his dad like he did before. This baby, though, needs him, needs all of them.  

She listens to him in rapt attention, like he's telling one of his classic comic stories.

In the absence of Auntie Thea, and with his dad and stepmom and extended family taking up the mantle of saving the city, William feels it is his job to ensure this very loud, very lovely little human knows how precious she is to this family, to _him_. He intends to show his sister what it means to be a part of this unpredictable but always loving family. Just like his dad did for Auntie Thea.

“Merry Christmas, Ladybug.” And then he gives the fourth and his favorite Queen a kiss on top of her silky smooth head, snuggling her close, keeping Star City’s most important treasure safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, darlings! :D


End file.
